


Sinona

by ProtegoEtServio (Ryuki)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Cinderella Elements, F/F, Fairy Tale Retellings, Fantasy, LGBTQ Character, Other, Trans Character, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-08 15:34:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14697137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryuki/pseuds/ProtegoEtServio
Summary: A Cinderella re-telling.Since her mother's death, Sinona has been relegated to servant status. With the passing years, she's done her best to keep the household stable and manage her step-sisters' schedules away from an unsettling Lord Edwin.After her family leaves for the ball, Sinona is visited by her Fairy Godparent. And they give her the means to escape her life of servitude for a night. Sinona has different plans, however.





	Sinona

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After her family heads off to the Prince's Ball, Sinona is visited by her Faerie Godparent.

Humid air weighed stickily on Sinona’s already sweaty flesh. She unpinned expensive dresses from the clothesline, barely dry from the short dry time, tossing them carelessly into a basket. At her feet, another basket bulged with clothes awaiting the line. A circle of damp spread out from the basket’s woven fibers, the sopping wet clothes oozing water. Her chapped hands were evidence of the ridiculous amount of washing her step-father had suddenly demanded just that morning.

Cicadas droned around her as leaves rustled, a consistent buzz that didn’t quite drown out the chaos in the household.

“Where is my dress?!” The shriek rang out from an open window on the second floor. Sinona cast a glance toward the house, just as she hung up another wet garment. Should she wander indoors, be immediately swept into the chaos? Or should she risk finishing this job?

The owner of the shriek answered her: “Sinona! Where are you?”

Sinona sighed, gathering up the basket of mostly dry dresses and made her way toward the manor.

Inside, the quiet of the early evening became overwhelmed by stampeding feet, servants hurriedly whispering to one another, and the cries of her step-sisters getting ready for the ball. After passing the laundry off to one of the few maids still employed by the family, Sinona made her way upstairs.

The closer she got to the second floor, the more telltale banging Sinona heard. That slam was a jewelry box and meant Scarlett hadn’t found an accessory she sought. That fumbling stomping meant Hazel hadn’t found her dress. That clatter meant the younger maids were clumsily dropping things, made shaky under the urgent atmosphere in the household. As Sinona passed by the two servants - cheaply employed from the local village - they cast her grateful looks. Of all the people in the manor, Sinona generally knew where everything was and, usually, how to sate her family members’ ire.

“Yes, Hazel?” Sinona ducked into her younger step-sister’s room. Soft pinks and creams, sprinkled with pearls, enveloped the room. The setting spoke of a person with a soft voice, a gentle touch, and - perhaps - a naive sense of the world. Well, it would have, if it wasn’t being choked out by an array of discarded dresses, garters, and stockings. Sinona wondered if the clothes stank of previous days or if - in her rushed state - Hazel had upended her wardrobe onto the floor for easier inspection.

The mess suited Hazel more than the creams and pinks. Her step-sister, five years her junior, knew more dirty limericks than a sailor and kept her clothing just as clean. She kept an ear out for gossip, since the age of ten, and knew every lick of slang that passed through the port town. Behind those brown eyes, was sharp intelligence that was forced into dullness around the egos of men.

“Sinona!” Hazel whipped around from inspecting her second closet, eyes lighting up upon seeing the other. After a quick glance to the doorway, Hazel wiped the excitement from her gaze. Her father lingered in a nearby room, ears ready to pick up on any kindness voiced toward the help, especially Sinona. Her voice took on an irritated, steely tone, “Where did you put my dress?”

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, and tell Hazel she had informed her that morning, Sinona poked into the first closet. Immediately, her eyes fell on the dusky gown as her hand grabbed for the hanger. She held it out to her step-sister, expression skillfully neutral.

The girl snatched the gown from Sinona without gratitude, hurriedly yanking the fabric over her head. A vague curiosity passed through Sinona’s thoughts, wondering how many spools of pink and white fabric had gone into the gown. It was a rather voluminous number, with enough ruffles and lace to make a nice bed set envious. How in the world did Hazel keep from getting lost in the folds?

“Lace up the back,” Hazel demanded, once she wiggled into the dress. Sinona nodded and set to work, silently. In the mirror her sister faced, Sinona caught the apologetic gleam in Hazel’s eye.

It had been like this since mother’s death, almost six years ago. Silent apologies, but no action to alleviate the circumstance. Sinona understood, but bitterness writhed in her thoughts. Both of her sisters sat by and watched. Neither stood up for her. Though, a small voice chimed in Sinona’s thoughts, to be fair, Hazel was young when everything happened and Lord Edwin is violent.

Hazel often had nightmares surrounding the incident that gave Sinona her scarred cheek. That incident marked the exact moment of atmospheric change in the household. It had been the day after Giselle’s funeral.

Sinona tried not to think of the knife - stinging, cold metal splitting her cheek - as she tugged at Hazel’s laces. Once finished with the ribbons, Sinona stepped back. “Finished.”

Hazel turned fully toward the mirror, smoothing the bodice with nervous fingers. In the reflection, Sinona caught the girl surveying her features. Fingertips to pale cheeks and a wrinkle of discontent at the freckles. Golden blonde hair, falling in gentle waves down, down, down Hazel’s back, obscuring Sinona’s work with the laces. And, in the reflection, the woman standing behind the girl, a dark-haired and tired-eyed shadow.

Sinona caught her own dual colored gaze - one blue and one green; of sky and earth, her mother would say - in the mirror and noted the dark circles with annoyance. The image in the mirror seemed almost artistic. Hazel in all her finery and delicate posturing took center stage; shining in her crisp garment and golden hair. Then there was Sinona, lurking in the background, with dusty clothes, carelessly cropped dark hair, and imposing height.

Her other sister’s voice cut through Sinona’s self-inspection.

“Sin!” Dahlia’s brusque voice shot through the air, just as the young woman peeked her head into the room. Long trails of ribbon dangled from her wrists. “Good, you’re in here. I need your help with these blasted things.”

Dressed in white and blue, Dahlia was an image of decadence. Where Hazel’s dress was outfitted with ruffles and lace, her sister’s was bedecked in superfluous ribbons and complicated layers. Sinona quietly wound the ribbon up Dahlia’s arm, tying them to her white bolero. When done, Dahlia eyed Sinona’s work with ice blue eyes. The same faint dusting of freckles dotted over the sister’s face, paler than Hazel’s from more time spent inside. Long, straight blonde hair tied her relation to Hazel in place.

Dahlia, older than Hazel by three years, stood the same height as the sixteen-year-old, though she was built of a more robust stock. Studies and embroidery entertained Dahlia more than socializing. Lord Edwin hoped she’d someday be the capable wife of a lord or - gods willing- the Prince. It wasn’t going to happen. Sinona had seen how Dahlia’s eyes trailed after the maids.

“If that’s all-” Before Sinona could dismiss herself, Hazel’s already-ajar door slammed into the wall. Her stomach dropped knowing he stood there. The atmosphere in the room shifted, dropping in temperature. Quietly, Sinona was thankful she helped Hazel dress before Lord Edwin barged in. Sinona’s stepfather - Hazel and Dahlia’s father - had a habit of entering his daughters’ rooms without invitation over the last few years. Whether his daughters were decent or not.

Sinona went to great pains to maneuver the girls’ schedules around his, preparing them for morning jaunts or cooking Lord Edwin’s breakfast a little earlier. The look he gave his daughters brought a coil of uneasiness and rage through Sinona’s gut. Over the years, she learned to diplomatically separate him from them, to see the silent cries for help from her sisters. They slept sounder when he went away on business.

“Ready to depart?” The man apprised his daughters with a critical, ice-blue gaze. He didn’t deign Sinona with a glance.

Both girls turned toward their father’s heavy footfalls as they echoed across the room. He circled them, appraising their worth as women for potential suitors. Lord Edwin caught a lock of Hazel’s hair, gauging the silkiness by the smooth touch and the way it slipped from his fingertips. The girl flinched, as if stung. Sinona’s chest locked, barely breathing. A dreadful heat crawled through her stomach and into her lungs, as the lord of the manor measured up her step-sisters like cattle.

Moving behind Dahlia, Lord Edwin tugged at the laces of her bodice. The ice-eyed young woman didn’t flinch nor inhale sharply. She kept her eyes locked to an empty spot on the wall. Only a slight twitch of her eyebrows betrayed her discomfort.

The lord circled before the girls, catching both of them by their chins. This time, both girls briefly jolted at the touch. Turning their faces this way and that, Lord Edwin sighed. “We should really do something about those freckles. But there’s no time tonight.”

He released his daughters, striding toward the exit. “We must leave now. Early in, early seen.”

Sinona hadn’t moved from her position. Leaving Hazel and Dahlia alone with their father made her stomach churn.

However, Lord Edwin’s eye fell to her sentinel position. “Have you finished your chores, girl?”

‘Girl.’ Sinona internally bristled at the way Lord Edwin spat out the word. However, her face remained impassive, eyes fixed to a far wall. “The wet laundry is on the line. Another maid took the dried clothes while I assisted the ladies of the house with their dresses.”

Lord Edwin sneered, making a humming noise at the back of his throat. He lingered a second too long, leering at her. Faintly, she wondered if he saw any speck of her mother. If he did, he didn’t say anything. The man exited the room, leaving his daughters to cast subtly sad expressions in Sinona’s direction as they passed her.

Sinona listened to her step-father’s heavy footfalls as they echoed across the floorboards, followed by the soft swish of her step-sisters’ skirts. Sinona closed her eyes, counting down. At zero, the front door slammed shut. A few seconds later, the clatter of carriage wheels sounded off into the night. Her shoulders relaxed and fell as her captured breath escaped.

When she opened her eyes, her gaze caught the window. The castle sat in the distance, framed by the panes, off-center and awash in illumination. The sense of movement toward the castle writhed along snippets of road. The white feat of architecture stood stark against the warm gradient of sunset. A bitter prickle lit through Sinona’s thoughts. A vague remembrance of a long ago promise, unkept, and a night of scrubbing every little thing in the manor - alone - until her fingers bled. She had watched her step-sisters and step-father ride off in the carriage, later that evening, with her bandaged fingers digging into the skirt of her too-small, not-good-enough dress. Pain itched at Sinona’s fingertips as the memory played behind her eyes.

She turned away from the castle, her eyes burning.

 

x x x

 

Once Lord Edwin departed, and the household fell into peace, Sinona retreated to the yard. An empty basket balanced against her hip and hands aching from the day full of washing and folding. The cool night air refreshed her skin, clammy and dirtied with grime of cleaning. Lord Edwin made a habit of filling Sinona’s chore list the day of any soiree. A reminder to stave off temptation in her mind.

Pushing the thoughts away, Sinona focused on the job at hand: Pulling dry garments from the line, folding them, and placing them into the basket. Around her, the cicadas sang their mating song as the sun sank further beneath the horizon. White stars punctured the pinkish-purple haze of the sky. The scent of grass and fresh laundry tinted the breeze, refreshing and soft. Sinona brushed worry for her step-sisters, disgust for her step-father, far from her forethoughts. Perhaps Hazel would meet a spirited Lord and Dahlia would enchant a kind Duchess. Perhaps Sir Edwin would trip on the carriage step and break his neck. Perhaps, perhaps.

Three rather large and voluminous gowns later, a voice broke her concentration: “That Lord Edwin is quite a piece of shit, isn’t he?”

Sinona nearly dropped the lord’s finest tunic. She turned, seeking the source of the voice. Not far from her, a figure lounged on a nearby garden bench, a bright smile on their lips. Rich, dark skin and tight rose-pink curls, spanned from their head like a sun’s corona. A gown of primrose and lilac coiled about their figure. White flowers bunched at their shoulder, their waist, the hem of their asymmetrical skirt. A sugary scent filled the air, pulling thoughts of pastries and cakes into Sinona’s forethoughts.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” As an afterthought, Sinona added, “...m’liege.”

“I’m no liege,” giggled the figure. Their laughter chimed, like bells. Pushing themselves to their feet, the stranger gracefully spun around - showing off small semi-transparent wings - and threw out their arms. “I’m Bijoux, your faerie godparent!”

Silence filled the air between Sinona and Bijoux. The servant stared at the faerie. The cicadas screamed in their desperation to pass along their genes. Far off, Sinona caught the frantic rattle of a carriage, late to the party. Bijoux’s smile remained affixed to their lips, eyes twinkling and hints of glitter on their cheeks.

“Faerie godparent.” Sinona repeated, the previous servility melting into flat disbelief.

“Yes.” Bijoux’s smile didn’t falter. They took a step closer to Sinona. They flourished a previously unseen wand. Sinona watched the tip of the wand waver in the air as Bijoux continued, “I’m here to help you get to the ball. Find a love. Live happily, monogamously, ever after. The usual for fairy godparents.”

“I see,” replied Sinona. Her lips pressed tightly together, eyeing Bijoux’s wand. She turned sharply away, back toward the clothesline. “You’re a few years late.”

“What?” The word came out breathless, as if the word didn’t have enough belief in it to exist in the world.

Sinona grasped at the fabric of another tunic, but didn’t unpin it. Closing her eyes, she sighed, “I don’t want to go to the ball, anymore.”

“Oh.” The faerie’s demeanor briefly deflated. Their wings drooped and the color seemed to go out of them. Suddenly, a bright smile dawned over their lips. “But you _did_ want to go at one point, right?

Sinona paused, her face tilting toward the ground.. She couldn’t deny it. The residue of that past desire still coated the inside of her ribs.

“I knew it!” Bijoux triumphantly pointed their wand toward Sinona.  “Who _doesn’t_ dream of dancing the night away with an attractive stranger that makes your heart swell and let’s you dream of a better tomorrow? And I can grant that desire!”

A sudden thought bloomed in Sinona’s mind. Could her faerie godparent grant larger wishes? She swallowed as the thought of long stretches of road and a city on the edge of the sea lit through her thoughts.

“I’d rather money and a fast horse than a dress and a carriage.” Sinona sharply turned back to them, a determined glint in her eye. A different dream ballooned in her head, shattering her steady impassivity. Her heart throbbed, fluttering as possibilities cascaded through her thoughts.  “I want to get as far away from this place as possible.”

Bijoux stared, wide-eyed, at Sinona’s face. Their pale lavender eyes shimmered under the barely-there light of the stars. The faerie bit their bottom lip. “I… I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” The demand shot from Sinona’s lips before she could curate her tone. Unable to take it back, she jabbed an accusatory finger at the faerie’s wand. “You have magic. The possibilities are endless.”

“Well, you see, faerie godparent assignments are _very_ particular.” They fiddled with their wand, playing with the little jewel embedded into the bottom of the handle. Bijoux could no longer hold Sinona’s gaze, glancing askance. “It’d be utter chaos if we indulged every wish of our human godchildren. I’m only authorized to give you a new outfit and a carriage.”

Just as Sinona moved to turn away, her new wish cracking, the faerie jolted forward. “Oh! And a pair of glass slippers.”

Sinona raised an eyebrow at the faerie. Who in the world would wear _glass_ shoes?

“It was a fad with magicfolk for a time,” explained Bijoux, waving their wand dismissively. “I have _tons_ and I’ve been trying to get rid of them.”

Sinona stared at Bijoux, eyebrows lowered and calculations working behind her eyes. “A dress, a carriage, and secondhand glass slippers.”

“Oh,” Bijoux wrinkled their nose, preparing to deliver more unsavory news. “ _And_ the magic runs out at midnight.”

“For the ball?” Sinona’s eyes darted toward the castle. Curiosities tickled over her thoughts. Dancing in those lights, behind those white walls, people swept the floor in gowns and suits; they exchanged pleasantries and flirted. Somewhere in it all, the prince sat, seeking a forever-companion. Excitement, broken and faded from years of denial, flitted weakly through her chest.

From the corner of her gaze, she caught Bijoux giving an apprehensive nod. The faerie wasn’t sure if Sinona would accept the limitations.

“Fine,” Sinona said, curtly. She turned back to her faerie godparent, holding her chin high. A slight smile curled at the corners of her lips.

A squeal eked out of Bijoux’s lips before they waved their wand. Sinona’s world became a waterfall of sparkles and glitter, a rhyming chant echoed on the breeze. She didn’t pay much mind to any of it. At the back of her mind, a plan pieced itself together from the shards of her past dreams.


End file.
